


Feral Fathers

by stboondock



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween (1978), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Also Michael is Tony Moran, Also timelines are slightly different, Alternate Universe, And I hint at it by making him ambiguously gay seeming, Halloween movie, Hoes were mad, If y'all don't know AU means Alternate Universe because some of you don't seem to know, It's an AU, Jason Voorhees - Freeform, Jason and Michael adopt Jamie and Tommy, Jason and Michael can speak, Jason and Michael have hot sweaty sex, Listen this is a reupload, M/M, Michael Myers - Freeform, Michael Myers is a bottom, Michael has always known he's gay, Pamela did her killing in 1977, Slow Burn, but don't for a long time, fuck 2007 Michael, like i know a bottom when i see one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-05-15 19:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stboondock/pseuds/stboondock
Summary: Re-Upload of (Don't) Fear the ReaperAfter leaving Haddonfield, Michael Myers finds himself at the mercy of Jason Voorhees. After living together at Crystal Lake for years Michael comes home after a successful trip to kill Laurie with a baby girl.I got some annoying anon comments because hoes mad and don't understand the basic concepts of things out of their apparent understanding. And I don't take constructive criticism. I know my writing is basic; I'm not a writer. I'm a Criminal Justice Major and Digital Artist.  I wrote this to get the idea out of my head and get ideas to draw.





	1. Escape from Haddonfield

**Author's Note:**

> Not to sound like my mother when I was aged 10 and never had anything nice to say but: IF YOU DON'T HAVE ANYTHING NICE TO SAY DON'T FUCKING COMMENT! I said I don't take criticism, if you don't like it, don't read it; it's not that deep and if you think it is don't ever speak to me we ain't friends. Stay in your lane and I'll stay in mine. If you say something jerky I won't hesitate to be the meanest bitch in the world to you.

It was a nightmare; granted for him, it was a minor inconvenience that he was blowing out of proportion due to sheer panic at trying to get out, but for the families of the victims he was running from, it was a nightmare. Michael Myers was a monster, after all, the Boogeyman, the Terror of Haddonfield; The Phantom of Texarkana was nothing compared to the Shape…Right? Isn’t that the point Dr. Loomis drilled into his young, impressionable mind for 15 long years locked up in Smith’s Grove? 

Halloween night, 1978, 13 people dead—Loomis may be right—and yet, Laurie and Michael both survived the night. One was being rolled to an ambulance in a wheelchair, barely able to walk but somehow strong enough to fight back against her older brother, to be treated for her wounds, while the other was driving as far East as a stolen car would take him. 

Michael sat in silence as he passed the “Now Leaving Illinois” sign, glancing between the road to his bloodied and beaten mask sitting in the seat next to him. He had to take it off. The sweat pouring off damp brown hair burning the wounds his body was desperately trying to heal. Laurie had gotten his left eye with the pointed end of a clothing hanger and it was hard to see through it now; he had practically been burnt alive not 3 hours ago, but his bodies rapid healing had managed to heal most of the wounds to nothing but dull white scars, but his eye… It wasn’t healing properly. The thought made Michael huff, at least his mask was starting to ride up his face during he and Laurie’s final scuff or he might have lost his other eye to that gunshot. No amount of thought about the fight will stop Michael from feeling his cheeks burning in shame; he was running away like an alley cat, to lick his wounds, but he knew it was the smartest thing to do. He had only committed murders in Illinois, if they wanted to incarcerate him again, they would have to hope the police in another state catch him and send him back to Haddonfield. But, the police don’t, nor do Smith’s Grove, have any recorded pictures of his face (during the riot that helped him escape the mental institution, he burned his files with any documentation of his face), only the mask. Michael may not like the idea of walking around without his mask on, but he wasn’t an idiot, he’ll hide it away when he finds a place to stop…

Which brings him around to his current situation; He didn’t know where he was going. Michael watches as he passes sign after sign, not knowing a thing about where he is besides knowing it’s Indiana. He’s going to have to stop for gas, food, and clothes.   
Michael Myers was many things, but lucky he was not, that is until he finds a wallet in the glove compartment of his (stolen) 78’ Chevrolet Caprice; and thank whatever God you believe in, the name on the credit card found inside was a man’s. He wouldn’t thank any God that rewards a man who just killed 13 innocent people with another man’s wallet, but whatever. 

He pulled into the next exit, parking at the shitty looking gas station that doubled as a souvenir shop. He could probably find something sustainable to eat and he can thankfully put off having to use his voice to order food for himself; in the back of his mind, Michael knew he would eventually have to speak as to not arouse suspension or seem creepy but also to get the things he needed before he found a place to hide away until the time was right to go back to Haddonfield and kill Laurie. Be an average citizen, not a fucking nutcase. Michael decided he should get a shirt first, he looked like he was just crushed by a car in the auto shop. He went into the survivor shop, grabbing the first shirt he saw (it was just a white shirt with the Purdue University logo on it) and gray sweatpants to go with it. He smiled as nice as he could at the cashier, who fortuitously didn’t say much as he was too busy taking in Michael’s ripped up coveralls, as he paid for the outfit and changed in the bathroom; the shirt was two sizes too big, but the pants were kind of tight which made him look even more disheveled somehow. It’s fashion. If he was close enough to Purdue that they were selling shirts at this roadside gas station shop, then he could play himself off as a tired college student. He tossed his jumpsuit in the back of the car; better not dispose of it, if anyone found evidence of him, they would know he was headed east and be on high alert in every state from here on out. Michael entered the convenient store, grabbing as many snacks as he could along with a large coffee, black. When he got to the cash register, he gave a fake yawn, playing off his muteness as being tired, and paid for his food.   
Maybe the wallet was the start of some better luck for him.

\------

Michael was starting to feel like he was on his last breath; he had been driving for more than 13 hours straight, only stopping once at a rest stop in Ohio and getting spooked by a cop who pulled in next to him before he could even shut his eyes. He was also incredibly hungry, all he’d had in the last 6 hours was boiled peanuts and more coffee. He, like his car, was running on empty and the last time he checked he was in New Jersey, so maybe it was finally the end of the line. Michael had just pulled into a small village called Blairstown to scope out the area before he would find somewhere secluded nearby to settle down.   
He pulled into a post office sized grocery store hoping to get some necessities for the week; enough to give him time to decide if this area was right to stay in or not. When he went in, there was barely a soul there; an old man with a bucket hat and a shifty glare that landed on him and a small chubby woman with a blue apron on, probably the owner or at least a worker. He wandered down the aisles, grabbing anything he thought he would need, tossing them carelessly into his basket until the other man stopped him with a tug on the bicep,” You’re too young to be livin’ round these parts.” He said. Michael didn’t know how to respond, he only shook his head hoping the man was just crazy and would keep talking,” You trying to start up that camp again? Camp Blood. It’s got a death curse, you know?” Michael shook his head again, removing his arm from the man’s boney grip,” Now that his mother is dead, Jason is protecting those woods. I know it. The Lake is cursed.” The man pointed towards the back of the store, presumably in the direction of this so-called Camp Blood. Michael only cleared his throat and turned away from the man, he had nothing to say, the man was obviously crazy, and he knew not to give schizos like that the fuel to add to that fire; it was better to let him talk and walk away. 

Bucket hat didn’t talk to him anymore after that, only following him and watching him from the end of each aisle. Michael was unfazed by the interaction, he’s dealt with worse in the past 15 years, an end-of-the-worlder was the last thing he would pay any mind. He watched as the older woman checked him out, nodding when she asked if he was new in town,” Don’t worry about Ralph. He’s wacky, but he ain’t going to cause you any harm. I think the murders down at Crystal Lake last year boosted his ego a little… He tells ever young person that comes into town that the Lake is cursed, but it’s only been accurate that one time.” She must have seen Michael’s questioning look because she continued,” Last June… It was Friday the 13th… Pamela Voorhees murdered the camp counselors as punishment for her son, Jason’s, death. He drowned in the lake 20 years ago. But she was killed that night, by the only survivor.” Michael nodded, taking his bags and giving her a smile and a wave as he left the store. Jason Voorhees, huh? At least Ralph had his information right, but did he really think a little boy who drowned 20 years ago was still wandering the forest? If so, why hadn’t there been reports of some living dead adult man nobody in this small town knows walking around the Camp? He paused in his thought… Well, Michael himself couldn’t die, so maybe there’s someone else who can’t either. He still has a lot of questions, but he didn’t think it mattered all that much. If there was some kind of Creature from The Black Lagoon down by the lake, he’s sure he could outsmart it. Besides, that Camp Crystal Lake sounds like the perfect place for him to take refuge; everyone was too scared to go there because of the murders and there were probably dozens of cabins he could stay in. 

Michael, not wanting to draw suspension from anyone, decided not to ask for directions or find a map to look for the camp. He’ll just take Ralph’s point to heart and drive thataway until he sees any signs of the camp or even the lake. 

He was only about 20 minutes deep into the forest when he heard his car start to sputter loudly, feeling the acceleration give out under his foot. He was very close to verbally swearing, settling instead for slamming his fist on the wheel and letting the car idle until finally stopped, momentum giving out completely. He felt like a complete idiot, he was so distracted by the thought of some water monster that he forgot to get gas while he was still in town.   
Michael got out the car, deciding to push it off into the forest, hoping nobody would come this way and see it; lucky for him, the car wasn’t too hard to push but it took a while to get it far enough in the woods to not be seen from the road. When he parked it, he decided to put his coveralls on over his trashy roadside attraction outfit, slipping the knife from the glove compartment into the tight waist of his sweatpants and putting his mask on to free up space in his hands. He grabbed his grocery bags and did a onceover of the car; no real sign that he was ever there. He walked opposite of the road, eyeing it as a sort of path, he can’t walk down the road with his mask on, so he had to keep hidden as he continued his trek towards the lake. 

As the grass around him started to become mushier, he figured he was close to the lake. As if on cue, his shoe bumped into something hard hiding amongst the mush on the ground; it was a yellow sign that said Camp Crystal Lake in neatly painted big letters. That was… a good sign. He let out what could be a chuckle, under his breath. It wasn’t really that funny. It also wasn’t funny when he felt a large hand grab him by the back of the neck, lifting him, causing him to drop his groceries. Michael could feel his shoulders jump, but he was quick to react, unzipping his coveralls and taking out the knife from his waistband. Whoever was holding him hadn’t noticed as they started to squeeze, fingers long enough to completely wrap around his neck from the back. Michael reached his free hand back to find the base of the person’s hand before reeling back and stabbing it. The person let go and Michael was able to land on his feet, careful not to crush the groceries as he spun around; a huge, hulking man was standing there, looking at the stab wound, he must have been 6’6” or something because Michael was 5’10” and this man was towering over him. He was wearing a burlap sack over his head with one eye hole cut out and he had a pickaxe, which had barely dried blood on the tip, in the hand Michael hadn’t stabbed. He looked down at Michael, his eye scanning over his own mask with a pondering gaze, but the man didn’t seem to think too hard on it as he reached out for Michael’s neck again; why was this guy so intent on choking him? 

Michael ducked, learning that this guy is not that fast, his bulkiness probably slowed him down a lot, and stabbed the man in his right side; he didn’t even flinch, pulling Michael up by the back of his coveralls like a kitten being picked up by the scruff. Michael used the leverage he had facing the man to kick both of his feet as hard as he could into the man’s chest. The man let go, gasping from the blow, but unfortunately for Michael, he didn’t get enough time to land and ended up losing his breath as his back hit the dirt. The man was quick to recover, taking the chance to press his muddy boot into both of Michael’s thighs, effectively keeping him from thrashing. Michael tried to stab the man in the ankle, but it had no effect, knife still dug into the man’s ankle as Michael’s chest was hit with the blunt end of the pickaxe; he could feel a rib break, but the man didn’t look like he was exerting much strength with that blow, he must have been superhumanly strong to not break a sweat but have Michael Myers practically squirming to get away. Michael was about to try to reach for his knife again, but the man brought the stinging metal point of the pickaxe to chop into the left side of Michael’s chest and shoulder. The shot was so powerful, Michael felt the pain all over his body, letting out a short cry; that was so much worse than guns or fire or any pain he had felt before. The man stepped away from Michael, expecting him to be dead, but Michael began to push himself up, still bleeding, but too stubborn to take the hit. Michael got to his knees, falling forwards as his head began to spin; he was getting sleepy. He reached for his knife, still stuck in the man’s ankle, pulling it out and giving one last stab to the shin before huffing. All the man did was watch as Michael rolled onto his back and pulled off his mask, mouthing the word, “Jason” before passing out.


	2. Make It Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael makes a break for it only to discover Jason won't let him go so easy. It's definitely the start of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fuck Dr. Loomis  
> 2\. Some subtle POV switches in here; you can tell when it's Michael because he refers to Jason as 'Jason' and Jason doesn't know Michael's name yet so he just uses generalized pronouns and terms.  
> 3\. I've watched Halloween so many fucking times it's ridiculous. I can quote most of the movie.

Jason was shocked for a moment, had he seen that right? Did this man know who he was? He bent down and pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, checking for his pulse: it was there and seemed to be a regular heartbeat, not slow like he was dying and not fast like he was scared. While he was still hunched over, Jason took a second to look over the smaller man’s face. He was very beautiful, full lips, long dark lashes, soft looking skin; there was a fresh scar, he knows he didn’t make, running over the man’s left eye.

But, why was he wearing a mask? Jason wore his to hide his deformity, being embarrassed from the teasing he received as a kid, but this man had nothing to hide. Unless he didn’t want to be known. 

Jason remembers the stories his mother told him of masked men who took from the rich and gave to the poor, or even villains who were hiding their true identity. Maybe this man didn’t want people to know who he was. Jason’s mind was racing, he had skipped over the fact that a wound like that would kill anyone else in an instant. He checked the man’s pulse again, no longer distracted by his angelic face, and confirmed it was going fine. Jason abruptly stood, looking around at the man’s grocery bags and the knife he had used on Jason. Where was he keeping it anyways? Jason wasn’t paying him much mind up until now. The man on the ground started to stir, but didn’t wake up, only moving positions like he was getting comfortable. Ok, Voorhees, focus. Jason crouched back down, pushing the coveralls away and lifted the man’s shirt; the wound isn't bleeding anymore, already scabbing and even starting to heal over despite the obvious swelling and deep bruising from internal bleeding. 

Now, Jason was never the smartest boy, but he was imaginative and he’s starting to get the picture that this man was like him. He didn’t seem to die. 

\------

Michael could feel his head pulsating, like his brain was trying to break through his skull, as he slowly blinked his eyes open. He remembers almost being killed by, who he assumes was, Jason Voorhees and bleeding out on the soppy patches of grass, probably very close to making it to the camp, so why did he feel a soft fabric over his bare(?) chest and against his back. He sat up slowly, elbows digging into a plush, albeit admittedly kind of springy, mattress. He was still adjusting to light beaming through a nearby window when he felt a sharp pain burn his left shoulder. He immediately flopped back down, biting down on his lip in a desperate attempt to not make a loud, embarrassing noise. He rubbed his shoulder weakly, sitting up again without putting pressure on his shoulder. Fucking great… Jason Voorhees was a force to be reckoning with if one pickaxe wound is affecting him this badly. Michael pushed the sheets off himself, shivering when the cool air hit him; it also hit him that he was shirtless. He looked down, cheeks feeling a little hot as he realized Jason must have undressed him; his sweatpants were still on though. He pulled on his mask, grabbing it from where it rested on the bedside table. He looked around the room, seeing his coveralls and Purdue t-shirt in bloody shambles, next to them was a clean plaid shirt. Michael recognized it as the one Jason was wearing under his overalls.  
That was incredibly cute. 

Michael got up, slipping it on and buttoning it up, although it was still so big it was slipping off one of his shoulders even with all the buttons up. He shuffled to the door, pressing his ear against in an attempt to hear if Jason was somewhere in the cabin. He could hear soft music playing, presumably a radio, but couldn’t identify the song. He decided to leave the room, not hearing anything but the radio, entering a small kitchen across from a living room area with a fireplace; no signs of anyone else in the cabin. He glanced towards the kitchen finding his groceries sitting neatly on the counter with a crumpled piece of paper that had “sorry” shakily written on it like the owner of the note couldn’t write well, almost indistinguishable. Michael huffed an amused noise, turning to look around the small space; all the windows were open to let in light, candles sitting around every surface unlit and a few blankets stacked on the three-seater couch. Jason must be trying to make him as comfortable as possible judging by the non-threatening, one-bedroom cabin and subtle gestures. 

The prospect was sweet but, if what he’d remembered about Jason from Crazy Ralph and their brief fight was anything to go on, Jason was supposed to be some murderous, territorial hermit mama’s boy, so why wasn’t he here to see Michael off his property or at least try to kill him again? Instead giving him a gift and an apology written like a child? Michael’s immature curiosity was peaked to say the least. 

Michael peered out the open window; the cabin was right across from the lake, canopy by a few trees that didn’t obscure the view of the shimmering lakefront water. It was nice, peaceful, the air was fresh, even through his mask Michael could feel the natural zephyr and smell the musky, soggy mud from the banks. Somehow, he could see himself forgetting all about his little family problem back in Haddonfield; he wouldn’t…. but he could. Putting his lingering thoughts aside, Michael scanned for any signs of Jason, ‘He should be easy to find. He was massive when we were faced up.’ he thought, marching out the front door and practically skidding on his heels when he saw the bear trap barely obscured by a handful of leaves in front of the door. Michael, shocked, studied the rest of the area around the cabin, flashing by the numerous off kilter leaves and metal teeth poking up,’ Ah… so the little sweet boy stuff he brought me was an illusion of safety… He’s trying to trap me here.’ Michael toed forward, grabbing a thick stick from the ground and using it to trigger the bear trap by the door. Michael moved carefully around the grass and mud, bare feet shuffling to alert him if he missed seeing a trap.

Michael was able to make it about a yard out before he started hearing heavy boots hitting loudly into the wet ground. He started faster, trying to at least make it to the cabin next door; maybe he could hide out in there as he most likely has an advantage over Jason in a small confined space. Michael didn’t bother looking around to put a visual on Jason, deciding on just booking it towards the house. He made it in without incident, hearing Jason approaching quickly. 

Michael made his way towards the bedroom, ducking into the closet; Jesus Christ, he felt like Laurie minus the dumb idea to poke Jason with a coat hanger. He didn’t bother hiding away in a corner or even tying the door shut, he wanted Jason to find him. 

Michael could feel his muscles jump in anticipation when he heard the front door slam open; sounded like the guy was pissed, maybe that bear trap trick worked on everyone. Jason was thundering in his movements, boots practically cracking the boards with the angry pace. He didn’t seem to waste much time getting to the bedroom, Michael realizing with frustration that he tracked muddied footprints through the cabin. ‘FUCK!’ there was no way Michael could get any sort of jump on Jason when his stupid prints placed him in the closet. Jason didn’t immediately make his move to the closet, crouching down to look under the bed; huh? Michael took the chance to quietly exit the closet and jump on Jason, kicking the pickaxe out of his hand, and using his whole body to press Jason’s back into the wood floor. Jason’s eye was wide in surprise as Michael straddled his stomach, hands clutching the straps of Jason’s overalls. Jason reacted just as brisk, catching Michael’s waist with sizeable hands, the axe completely forgotten. They stared at each other, breathes fast and hard, not knowing what to do next.  
Michael pulled on Jason’s overalls, slamming his head and upper back into the floor as hard as his could; Jason grunted rough, hands not leaving Michael. Michael growled with irritation, trying it again, using all his strength to try to knock Jason out; Jason took the blow again, recovering with another solid grunt. Before Michael could try again, he was being lifted off Jason’s stomach, he clawed at Jason’s chest and shoulders, struggling as Jason held him firm and stood up fully. What the hell was this guy so much stronger for? Jason ignored Michael’s escape attempts, holding him slightly away from him like he was holding a furious cat as he carried Michael out of the place and navigated them back to Michael’s cabin. 

Jason tossed Michael onto the bed, like a ragdoll, and pulled a chair to the door, sitting on it and crossing his arms, staring at Michael who scrambled to get into a sitting position. Michael could feel his little adrenaline spike come down and the pain to his shoulder return as he held contact with Jason. Mask to mask they sat in silence, Jason barely moving from blocking the door and Michael angrily twitching where he sat with his legs spread. It felt like hours until Michael decided enough was enough and started to stalk across the room towards Jason. Jason got up and grabbed Michael’s right arm, minding his injury, dragging him back towards the bed, throwing him down harder this time, pinning his shoulders to the bed and shaking his head ‘no’ at the smaller killer; after he stunned Michael into staying down he sat back down in the chair. 

Michael huffed, digging his canines into his cheek and pulling off his mask, throwing it at the opposite wall with frustrated anger. Even in Smith’s Grove, he had never felt so demoralized, so trapped in his life. Back then he thought it would be best, but as the days turned to years he resented his family for misunderstanding what he was going through, hated Dr. Loomis for not helping him, cursed himself for not wanting to change. So, he stopped feeling trapped and started thinking ahead to when he could be free, no longer focused on the present that he knew he couldn’t change, even if he wanted to, and looked forward to a future in which he could take his revenge and live free, feel free. Neither of those things happened… he failed to kill Laurie -- twice -- and he wasn’t even sure whether his mother or father were still alive; they abandoned Laurie just like they abandoned him, only difference is Laurie would never know that feeling… having been given to a loving family. And now he’s being backed into a corner by a man who seemed to not feel anything he threw at him; by a man who was a legend, allegedly dead as a child but alive now as a hulking monster of an adult. 

Jason was shocked when the man’s mask hit the wall, he could see him shaking from the bed and he couldn’t tell if it was fear or fury that trembled through him. The man had his face turned away from Jason, so he couldn’t see the expression either. Jason wasn’t sure what to do; he was just trying to help the man out, but he was acting like a caged animal. 

Jason got up from the chair, startling Michael when it scraped slightly from the quick movement. Michael’s hackles were raised when the man started to approach him, wishing he hadn’t thrown his mask off now that Jason could see his expressions clearly. Michael turned on his side, burying his face into the arm of his sleeve as he heard Jason stop at the edge of the bed. Michael nearly yelped when he felt large fingers comb through his hair, petting him a few times before Jason withdrew and left the room. 

Michael let out a heavy breath when he heard Jason sit on the couch in the living space outside. What in the fresh fucking hell was that? First, he was getting chased down and thrown around by the guy and now he’s being gentle, almost affection towards him. What did Jason think of him? He probably wouldn’t know the answer anytime soon; not planning on using his voice even to ask Jason. He got up and grabbed his mask from the ground, feeling oddly calmer than he had before Jason’s outlandish pet, putting it on and leaving the bedroom; he didn’t miss the way Jason seemed to tighten up, rearing for another chase, possibly a fight, but all Michael did was enter the kitchen and begin unpacking the grocery bags. It seems like Jason had no plans of letting Michael go, might as well make an attempt to show Jason he won't try to run again. Although, it begs the question: what exactly does Jason want with him?


	3. Lilium Philadelphicum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Jason have a lot to think about...
> 
>  
> 
> kinda short and a lot of skipping around but it needed to be down to progress a lot of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get their romance going as fast as I can as it's not the whole focus of this story but it's the basis that everything that happens lies on so....
> 
> TW: Jason uses the r slur in a medical sense as it was the right word back then

On the day they met, Michael had written his name on a piece of paper and handed it to Jason without a word and locked himself in his little cabin bunk.

It had been a week since Michael arrived at Camp Crystal Lake; he was adjusting well enough, even if he had a tendency to throw little pissy fits about things Jason didn’t let him do, they were getting along ok. Jason would patrol the area day and night, only taking breaks to check in with Michael. Unfortunately, Michael learned the hard way that Jason was connected to the camp in some weird mystical way; Jason can sense things on the grounds, almost like he has a marker on the living beings of the lake and any minor disturbance in life will disrupt his senses. The Haddonfield Killer had wandered too far into the woods and Jason dragged him back like he knew Michael was going too far. It was just one of the odd things about the big lug. He’ll be curious about the face under the mask for as long as they know each other.

Jason wasn’t sure how to feel about Michael. On one hand, he had seen the smaller man’s face and felt ridiculously flustered when he was around him at the memory of his soft, sleeping features. On the other, he was obscenely childish and has issues with following rules he doesn’t like; not to mention curious and angry. Neither of them spoke, Jason wasn’t sure if Michael could and he was too embarrassed of his poor speaking skills and broken English to initiate conversation; he feels smarter in his own head then he sounds bumbling around his teeth. 

Michael wanted to know more about Jason; he keeps thinking back to the scribbled out note Jason left him and he’s not sure Jason has a lot of cognitive skills, as he died a child and has been living in the forest for all his teenage and adult life. Michael just doesn’t see the logic in trying to question him, so why not go on a patrol with him; get an idea of his mannerisms, maybe find a motive to the obsessive walking around the lake he died in. 

\------

That night as Jason was gathering a weapon to take on his rounds, Michael grabbed his knife and followed Jason out of the cabin. Jason just seemed annoyed at first, shoulders square, glancing back with a dark eye pointed at the Shape. Michael took the initiative and tried to match Jason’s pace, grabbing his arm when he started to speed up so Michael didn’t trip over the concealed branches he wasn’t used to the way the bigger man was. 

Jason was losing his mind. He thought Michael was just trying to mess with him when he followed him out of the house but now the little stunner was grabbing onto him like they were a couple taking a romantic stroll; it’s making his head spin. He’s never had a friend much less a lover and he doesn’t know how to act in this situation; he can practically hear his mother’s voice telling him he shouldn’t be thinking about anyone like that, how unholy of him it is. God was tempting him in the worst way possible, it almost felt mocking; they’ve only known each other for a week and have done nothing but sit and enjoy each others presence (when Michael wasn’t being a brat). 

Michael could feel Jason fidgeting, muscles twitching under his fingers as his mind focused on not falling flat in the mud in front of Jason. He hadn’t given a second thought to his actions until Jason stopped and stared at him for a moment; Michael didn’t know what to do, Jason’s eye was scanning him quickly and for once Michael didn’t think he could read Jason’s mind. He heard Jason inhale sharply, gaining a tight grip on Michael’s arm and started to drag him back to the cabin. Michael didn’t know what to do; was Jason really that uncomfortable taking a walk with him or did he really plan to hold Michael in a confined area of the camp? He didn’t fight back like he normally would; he’s stunned in fact, having no godly idea what he did wrong. Jason hauled him into the cabin, throwing him on the bed like he had the first night together, but instead of watching him Jason left, slamming the door in a hurry. Michael sat confused, hearing Jason leave the cabin. 

Was… Michael so irritating Jason didn’t even enjoy the feeling of his presence? Or was he scared? 

Normally, with a reaction like that, Michael would never think he was scared, but the idiot hadn’t had a problem just hanging around him before. Was he scared that Michael might turn his hand on Jason? Scared of Michael getting closer to him? 

He moved to the couch, sitting under a blanket, and staring at the fireplace. 

Maybe it hurt; the idea of Jason not liking him. Michael has spent his entire life not being liked. When he was a kid, before he killed Judith, he didn’t have any friends; his parents didn’t seem to like him either, always pawning him off to his older sister, who also had better things to do than hang out with her odd baby brother. Judith was a teenager, why would she want to spend her time with a 6 year old who likes clown dolls and doesn’t talk normally when she could be losing her virginity to some equally angsty teenager? His parents should have known better; in fact they should have noticed his strange behavior and sought help so Michael wouldn’t grow up and become what he is now, but how could they when they never spent time with him? A part of Michael hates what he did to his sister, wished it hadn’t come to that, because it wasn’t entirely her fault; but she didn’t care about him, if she had maybe SHE could have helped. Instead, Michael killed her and Cynthia… Laurie… lived a better life, one away from their shameful, neglectful parents. If they were there that Halloween, Judith would still be alive and they would have paid for his hurt. And maybe that’s why he still wants to kill Laurie; he envies her in a way she will never understand because of them.  
Doesn’t Jason understand his hurt? Didn’t he die because he was neglected? Not by his mother but by the counselors that were supposed to be there for him? Or did he misunderstand what the grocery woman told him, about Jason’s mother getting revenge? 

Michael’s throat was burning; he wanted to scream, he wanted to feel something other than anger even if it was sadness. Why won’t Jason just understand?  
Fine. Tomorrow, Michael will search the camp for something to do. If Jason doesn’t want to be around him, he has to occupy himself with something else before the big guy snaps. Or before he does. 

\------

Jason didn’t know what to do; he was overreacting. But he was scared. Michael seemed to be so similar to him, the aura he exhumes when they’re together feels so comfortable, so familiar in a way he hasn’t felt since being with his mother; it felt like home in a way that was foreign but so close to what he needs. Does Michael feel it too? Or will he be furious that Jason feels something alien to him?

He never had friends; he had bullies, which was the closest thing he ever got of human interaction with his peers. It hurt, but he let it roll off him like water, ironically enough. He’s dumb, on the outside; looking and speaking. He’s diagnosed retarded, but he doesn’t feel like he is; he can think, articulate logical thoughts, but when he opens his fat mouth he just stumbles. Jason’s not a doctor, barely has any basic education, but he’s pretty sure the doctors only thought he’s mentally disabled because of his physical deformities; they never tested him, they checked him out and heard his nervous voice then made a diagnosis.

He misses his mother a lot. He has her head stored in a special place in the woods, reserved for a shack he was planning to build around and live when they inevitably tried to start the camp again. She was the only person who has ever loved him, his step father hadn’t even tried, instead beating him and calling him names until his mother tried to stop him. Jason always felt so powerless back then, he couldn’t protect his mother and he couldn’t protect himself; Elias certainly didn’t help his nasty looking face by bashing into it until Jason was deformed more than before. But his mother saved him and grew strong enough to protect herself. He always regrets that she had to be courageous for the both of them. 

Maybe he’s scared because he wants Michael to love him like nobody has before. 

Tomorrow, Jason will find a way to show Michael he wants to be close with him. 

\------

The next morning Michael got up, fresh and early, knowing Jason would be out on his regular patrol. He was having mixed feelings about the night before. He’s sort of an annoying, bratty and childish person in a way that gets on Jason’s nerves which means if he acts any worse Jason might get sick of him. Ignoring and avoiding Jason when he knows where Michael is at all times within the campgrounds is… pretty juvenile. Not to mention, he was still a little sour dragging up feelings from the past. He might as well find something to do so Jason doesn’t think he’s being given the cold shoulder. So, he gets comfortable and wandered out towards the cabin he tried to escape to; he hadn’t gotten a good look around in his frantic search to hide but he was hoping there would be stuff left by the police from the massacre last summer. He figures maybe since they weren’t investigating a killer, knowing it was Ms. Voorhees, they wouldn’t have taken too much in as evidence. Best case scenario: the loved ones of the deceased only took back some minor possessions and left things like books or records. Worst case: he finds a puzzle book and some panties. Ugh… He can’t imagine having to play sudoku to ignore Jason is going to be any fun. He started looting the living room, finding an old record player, which is super exciting until he realizes 1. he’s going to have to get Jason to help him move it and 2. no records to be seen here. He sighs and keeps looking but, there’s not much else besides a can of tuna (1 year old… gross) and a sick jean jacket with sunflowers embroidered on the back; Michael put it on and hied to the next cabin. 

\------

Jason could barely keep his thoughts in order, he was too nervous to stop himself from having doubts about this whole plan. First of all, what would Michael even like that he could find within the campgrounds? The extent of his knowledge about gifting in a situation like this is from romcoms his mom used to watch when he was 10… And that was 21 years ago. And now that he can sense Michael up and moving around the camp shanties his nerves are on fire, knowing the object of his prodding thoughts could stumble upon him and ruin the whole surprise for himself.  
Jason was overthinking things again. 

\------

Michael was surprised by the haul of things he actually found; if he’s being honest, he’s almost 100% sure Jason has never thought to look through the victims stuff before and if he did then he didn’t take anything. Sigh… to be an easily entertained man. He found a few vinyls and 45s, he was particularly excited about the Seals & Crofts Summer Breeze album and The Eagles Hotel California album, some decently fitting clothes, a pair of platform flip flops (there were also some gold platform boots he desperately wanted to fit into because he remembers watching a few episodes of Charlie’s Angels in the asylum lounge the year before and loving the dumb outfits, but his medium man feet were too big) which he was fascinated with, and knew he was going to break something trying to walk in, and a handful of books about nature; there were some housing essentials he had left for the time being, but kept in the back of his mind. 

He made his way back to his little cabin, making a note to ask Jason to help him bring the record player bookshelf to his cabin now that he has a few vinyls to listen too. In fact, he felt giddy at the prospect of getting to wearing something other than blood stained clothes or white hospital clothes for once in his life; don’t get him wrong, he likes the jumpsuit and will always rely on it when he’s on the clock for killing, but he’s been stuck in hospital gowns and white shirts for 15 years. He’s so happy he’s almost completely forgotten why he was even mad at Jason in the first place; being happy felt good… felt better than being angry. Maybe it was good that Jason wasn’t in the living room when he got inside because he was starting to get the feeling seeing his dumb masked face would drop him from his high so fast. Night was falling and it was getting cold, so Michael changed into a turtleneck, setting his mask on the side table and snuggled under a blanket on the couch, flipping through a Camper’s Guide to New Jersey Wildlife. He made it to the page about red foxes when Jason burst through the front door, Michael jerked staring back at the man who was panting and holding something behind his back. 

Jason closed the door softly, never taking his eye off of Michael, who instantly seemed to darken looking at him; gosh that wasn’t a good sign, now he was getting exceedingly anxious. He approached Michael slowly, watching him put his book down as Jason rounded the table in front of the couch, careful not to show Michael what was behind his back. Michael raised his eyebrow, looking annoyed that he was making a scene (maybe now he’d know how Jason felt when he had his little fit last week). Jason took a deep, audible breath, quickly presenting Michael with the flowers he had behind his back; they weren’t all that much as they started to welt in the harsher fall weather but Jason thought they were pretty enough, if he remembers right they’re called Wood Lilies. 

Michael was shocked, enough to drop his jaw and stare at Jason for a few seconds before even taking in the flowers; they were certainly lilies and Michael knows they’re common for weddings as a symbol of devotion even though they weren’t white. Did Jason know that or was he looking too much into this? 

Wait… Michael swallowed,” What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe Michael talks. 
> 
> I've been thinking about his voice ever since I found a clip of Tony Moran (his face actor in the 1978 movie) talking in a show and it's really fitting for how i've always heard Michael in my head; not too deep or masculine with the right amount of sass and femininity. 
> 
> If you want to see art for this fic or even hear Michael's voice (you'll find the clip in my story highlights called Halloween 2) follow me on Instagram @st.boondock

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me Instagram @st.boondock for additional art for this fic


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